


A Lesson in Con Artistry

by TheRedPalaaladin (Thighz)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, First Kiss, Frat Boy Shiro (Voltron), M/M, Meet-Cute, Sexual Tension, Who moonlights as a cosplayer, and keith still wants the d, cosplay au, gratuitous make outs, monsters and mana refrences, shiro is a dork
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-28
Updated: 2019-01-28
Packaged: 2019-10-18 12:37:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17580995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thighz/pseuds/TheRedPalaaladin
Summary: Keith goes to a convention.





	A Lesson in Con Artistry

**Author's Note:**

> I debated on telling you why this exists, but then I thought 'there's no shame in my game'.
> 
> So, here's a little fic inspired by my sharp, accidental u-turn into fursuit fucking.
> 
> (No...there's no actual fursuit fucking -)
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> _Enjoy_

 

**A Lesson in Con Artistry**

 

 

 

 

 

 

Keith hates conventions.

He hates the overflow of bodies in the front lobby of a ritzy hotel, all waiting impatiently for their room keys. Most of them are in dressed down versions of their cosplays, huge hotel carts resting at their sides, laden down with suitcases and bags and peace-tied props. The noise grates on his nerves and the caffeine in his overly sweet venti something something is not helping the incoming headache one bit.

He picks at the label on the coffee cup, condensation making the peeling easier. Lance’s name blurs and rips as a piece comes loose.

He thought his little luggage guarding alcove off to the side of the crowd would alleviate some of the hustle and bustle. His own personal little hideaway while Pidge, Lance, and Hunk get everything with the room settled at the front desk.

Instead, it gives him a front row seat to the absolute chaos that comes with what Pidge dubs ‘Day Zero’.

Keith was prepared to not enjoy himself the moment Lance insisted he join them on their mini-vacation. He absolutely did _not_ want to drive three hours away less than three weeks before finals to spend four days in a hotel full of strangers.

But his roommate told him that if he didn’t do something about the swirling dark thunderstorm above his head - he was going to use Keith’s knife collection as vegetable cutlery.

So, with the safety of his precious knife collection hanging over his head, Keith grit his teeth and begrudgingly agreed to join his friends at their annual con.

Keith can see them making their way back through the lobby, gleefully greeting other con-goers as they approach. Lance has shed his bomber jacket and has it thrown over his shoulder, wiggling his eyebrows at a group of girls dressed like Gems.

Hunk kindly twists Lance out of their view and pushes him at Keith, “We need to unpack first, Lance.”

“Yea yea.” Lance waves a loose hand, “Let’s go fight for an elevator.”

Keith finds out that Fight is an accurate term for getting an elevator while hundreds of other people are also trying.

It takes them forty five minutes to get up to their room and another half hour to unpack all of their luggage from the cart and get settled.

Keith is exhausted by the time he drops his backpack on his side of the bed and falls into the pillows.

“You can’t be tired already.” Lance crows, “We gotta go check out the rest of the hotel!”

Keith's voice is muffled by the pillowcase, “Pass.”

“Maybe if we’re lucky, we can catch a sneak peak at the artists alley.” Hunk claps his hands together gleefully.

“I want to see where all the panel rooms are going to be.” Pidge squints down at her phone, “There’s an app now. You should all download it.”

“Split up and meet back for pizza in a few hours?” Lance suggests.

They all slap their hands together in a circle, shout ‘break’, and before Keith can get a word in - they’re all out the door.

Keith debates watching mindless TV for a grand total of five minutes before pulling out his phone and downloading the conventions app.

He spends another fifteen minutes with his cheek pressed into the pillow, one eye scanning the events and panels and activities planned for the weekend. There’s not much to do on Day Zero, besides badges, unpacking, and vetting out the nooks and crannies of their temporary home away from home.

Keith knows the drill. He’s _been_ to conventions before.

Pidge has been dragging him along since they were toddlers.

He’s just managed to avoid them since they started college and Pidge found other friends to go with.

A few panels catch his eye, all on the art of prop making and a handful of shows he can actually tolerate watching. He doesn’t plan on doing any of the activities or go to the contests or do anything that involves him having to sit squished up beside someone who's been wearing a costume for upwards of six hours.

Keith adds the panels to his ‘schedule’ and pushes himself out of the bed. He slips his key card into his wallet, checks to make sure there’s no mustard stains from their rushed gas station lunch on his red hoodie, and sets out to explore the hotel.

The elevator isn’t occupied when he steps inside - which is probably only due to the fact that they’re on the 10th floor and everyone is downstairs. He presses the button for the correct level and waits as the door begins to shut.

“Wait! Hold the -.”

A metal hand slaps around one of the closing doors. The sound nearly jolts Keith out of his skin.

The doors pause, then hiss back into the wall.

Meanwhile, Keith has a momentary ‘come to jesus’ moment as the owner of the hand steps over the threshold to join him.

He’s big and broad and wearing a dark purple crew neck t-shirt that is _way_ too tight to be the correct size for his frame. His hair is dyed a startling silver and there’s a pink scar across the bridge his nose, but it doesn’t at all take away from the gorgeous lines of his face.

A face that belongs on marble statues sitting in expensive museums in countries Keith can’t afford to visit.

He smiles and Keith’s stomach takes a nosedive towards his feet, “I hope you don’t mind company.”

Keith swallows, “Uh -.”

“You here for the con?” The elevator lurches to life around them.

Keith can’t seem to find his voice. He’s too busy wondering what he did right in a past life to be standing in this exact spot at this exact moment in time. In the presence of the personification of the perfect human man.

Grey eyes grow concerned as dark eyebrows furrow, “Are you okay?”

“Yea.” Keith clears his throat, “Yes.”

The smile returns full force, “I’m Shiro.” A metal palm darts out into the space between them and Keith shakes it with no hesitation.

“Keith.”

“Here for the convention, Keith?” Shiro asks again.

“Unfortunately.” Keith’s eyes flick to the numbers counting down above the elevator doors.

Shiro gives a wry smile, “Not a fan of them?”

“Too many people.” Keith shrugs and shoves his hands into the pockets of his hoodie, “But it’s better than sitting around my dorm, I guess.”

“I’ll agree with that.” Shiro laughs and rocks on his heels, “I got ribbed for choosing this over the Tiki Tantra party.”

Keith snorts out an aborted laugh, “Tiki Tantra?”

“It is exactly like it sounds.” Shiro’s nose wrinkles.

“Sounds like a blast.” Keith smirks.

“Maybe when you’re drunk enough.” Shiro chuckles, “Where are you headed?”

Keith shrugs, “Just gonna scope the place out. Then meeting my friends for pizza later.”

“Cool. Cool.” Shiro bites his lip.

The elevator announces their arrival and the doors glide open to reveal a crowd of antsy people. Keith’s hackles rise at the idea of wading into the throng of suitcases and chattering arrivals just to get to the rest of the hotel.

The group in front of the elevator let out various gasps of excitement.

“Shiro the hero!”

Keith recoils at the sudden eruption of screams. Shiro doesn't seem fazed at all. He steps out of the elevator and welcomes the various cooing and claps on the back and dozens of different questions carrying over the excitement.

_What’s your line-up for the weekend?_

_Did you bringing Jiro?_

_Gonna enter the contest this go round?_

Keith watches them surround Shiro, looking like a bunch of eager Koi fish sucking in pellets of food. Shiro looks completely in his element, smile bright across his perfect face, hands moving as he answers questions. He’s obviously popular.

Keith takes a moment to mourn the loss of such a fine specimen before twisting around on his heels to escape the madness.

He almost makes it to the panel hall when a call of his name brings his head around.

Shiro is excusing himself through a new throng of people, all waving and patting at his arms as he passes.

Keith pauses, eyebrow lifting.

Shiro wheezes out a breath, a nervous smile forming on his mouth, “You move fast.”

“Gets me out of crowds quicker.” Keith replies, “You’re pretty popular.”

Shiro laughs, “A little, but Day Zero is my relaxation day. I try to avoid the crowds too.” He rubs at his elbow, “Wanna - uh - scope this place out together?”

Keith ignores the zing of pleasure, “Sure.”

  


 

-

  
  


 

Keith is surprised to find that Shiro is into a lot of the same things he is.

They’ve managed to locate most of the panels Keith wants to sit in for and Shiro put his name down for the cosplay contest. Since then, it’s been aimless wandering while they discuss the pros and cons of the shows they watch.

Space. Action. Adventure.

They even agree to meet up at some of the panels to sit together. Which Keith never thought he’d agree to in a million years. Except, Shiro is easy to talk to. His smile is easy and his laugh is wonderful and Keith could bask in this warmth for eternity.

But Keith gets the distinct feeling that he’s being mean mugged from twenty different directions.

Shiro seems completely oblivious as they walk through the dealers room. He’s smiling down at Keith, talking about an old cartoon they both share an interest in. Keith is only half listening and half wondering if the jealous glances cast in their direction are aimed at him.

Probably him.

They get halfway around the room when Keith’s phone buzzes.

It’s Pidge asking where he’s at.

“Oh.” Shiro’s disappointment is evident in the drooping of his shoulders, “Gotta go?”

Keith’s fingers hover over the keypad, eyes scanning Shiro’s dejected face and wondering how _anyone_ could say no to that. His stomach clenches, “We’re going out for pizza.” The phone vibrates again, another message telling him he’s going to miss out if he doesn’t reply, “Wanna come with?”

Shiro’s entire face lights up, “Pizza sounds great.”

Keith taps in a quick ‘ _meet you in the lobby_ ’ and together, he and Shiro set off towards the front of the hotel.

They weave through the crowds of incoming early birds and Keith spots Pidge’s bright green jacket near the revolving doors. Lance has put his jacket back on and Hunk’s changed into an ugly, burnt orange sweater. All three of them are on their phones, mouths moving and no doubt trying to find a decent place to get pizza that isn’t a little caesars.

Lance is the first to glance up and spot them.

His jaw visibly drops and he fumbles with his phone before pointing wildly between the two of them. He slaps Pidge’s shoulder, who hisses at him before twisting her gaze along the length of his arm.

Her eyes goes wide behind her glasses.

“Holy quiznak.” Comes out in an awed tone as Keith and Shiro arrive at their meeting place.

“Hey.” Shiro gives a wave, “Keith said I could join you for pizza, that cool?”

“ _Cool_?” Lance squeaks, “He asked us if it’s cool, Pidge.”

“Yea. I heard him.” Pidge voice sounds hollow.

Hunk grins down at Keith, “Aww, you made a friend.”

Keith scowls, “We met in the elevator.”

“We’ve been touring the hotel.” Shiro nudges Keith’s shoulder playfully.

Keith warms under the affectionate motion. A smile must filter through his careful masking because Lance lets out a gurgling sound.

“I can’t believe this is happening.”

“Can we go eat now?” Keith grumbles, “Everything at the concession stands are movie theater levels of gross.”

“There’s a nice build your own pizzeria about two blocks from here.” Shiro points through the glass doors, “I’ve been there before and it’s good.”

Lance throws out his hands, “Well what are we waiting for - lead the way.”

  
  


 

-

  
  


 

After Pizza, Day Zero comes to a close and they part ways with Shiro in front of the door to their hotel room. Keith barely gets a ‘see you tomorrow’ sent in Shiro’s direction before three sets of hands are yanking him backwards into the room.

Shiro looks momentarily surprised as the door clicks shut.

“What the hell?” Keith hisses, slapping their hands away.

“Do you know who that is?” Pidge waves her arms above her head.

Keith smooths out the wrinkles their hands made in his hoodie, “I dunno - a popular cosplayer?”

“Shiro the hero had pizza with us.” Lance drags his fingers through his hair and tugs, “Hunk, _Shiro_ the _hero_ ate dinner with us.”

“I was there, Lance.” Hunk hums.

Pidge’s fingers move frantically over her phone before she shows him the screen. It’s an Instagram page. With ‘ _Shiro the Hero_ ’ at the header, a short descriptive bio, and a whole slew of professional cosplay photos peppered in with gratuitous workout selfies.

Keith’s brain stutters on a bulging bicep emerging from the sweat-soaked sleeve of a captain america racer back.

Keith must make some sort of sound because Lance pulls a face, “I think you broke him.”

“ _That_ is Takashi Shirogane.” Pidge shakes her phone, “He goes to our college. He’s president of the Alpha Sigma Epsilon fraternity _and_ of the ATLAS aerospace engineering club.”

That explains the ‘tiki tantra’ party Shiro was missing out on.

Although, in Keith’s defense, he didn’t _look_ like frat material. Not dressed in his wholesome purple shirt and wearing a thousand watt smile. But the evidence is telling as Pidge uses her thumb to scroll through Shiro’s Instagram page. So many photos of Shiro in fraternity sweaters and cosplay and gym groups and one especially delicious one of him in a wet, pastel pink t-shirt and white snapback.

Keith inhales, “How have I never seen him before?”

“Oh, I dunno.” Lance waves a hand irritably, “Because you’re a recluse who lives in the art studio?”

Keith can’t argue with that. He does spend most of his time holed up in the studio, painting and not socializing. He has fallen asleep in Kolivan’s office on more than one occasion. Further proving that he does, indeed, practically live there. But he’ll never admit that to Lance

“I have better things to do than go to frat parties.” Keith mumbles petulantly.

“As if you’d even be invited.” Lance mumbles.

Hunk laughs from where he’s now lounging against the headboard, “Lance has been trying to get an invite to the those parties for a year.”

“We leave you alone for one day and you go off and befriend the greatest legend on campus.” Lance bemoans.

“Accidentally.” Keith reminds him, “Could have been anyone in that elevator.”

Keith’s secretly glad it had been him.

  


 

-

  


 

Keith thought he was prepared for the social clusterfuck that would be Day One of con, but he thought _wrong_.

He’s currently standing in line between Lance and Pidge, both of whom are dressed in in equally ridiculous outfits. Pidge looks like some kind of dwarf and Lance like a weird, cat thief, while Hunk seems to be a monk straight out of an old Robin Hood film. All three of them are buzzing with excitement as they wait.

Keith feels hilariously out of place in ripped black jeans and combat boots and a faded zip-up hoodie boasting a washer-worn depiction of the Voltron Black Lion.

It doesn’t help that he literally has no where else to be yet and joining Pidge and the gang on their ‘ _Monster and Mana_ ’ meetup adventure was still a better option than staring down at his phone, waiting for Shiro to post another cosplay update on his twitter.

Which sounds as pathetic as it seems.

Keith has had a twitter for three years and it’s nothing but a solid black profile picture and a weird blurry shot of the moon as a header. He has a grand total of three followers and is following those same three back.

Well - four now.

He’d hesitated over the follow button on Shiro’s profile.

But now here he was. Hours later. Refreshing his very limited feed in hope that Shiro will announce his location at the con so Keith can find an exit for what he is sure is going to be over an hour of misery.

That hope fizzes out like a wet balloon when an exuberant, ‘Wow, Hi, Keith!’ causes him to look up from his twitter stalking.

Gone is the normal-looking, broad-shouldered God who walked around the hotel with Keith yesterday and ate pizza with his friends and offered to sit with him at the panels so he didn’t feel like a loser.

In his place is a stranger.

A stranger whose tacky yellow and white armor is now hiding those mouth-watering shoulders, arms, and thighs. A stranger in a skin-tight black undersuit and a goddamn shoulder cape with a hood that shadows his beautiful, perfect face.

Shiro shoves the hood back, revealing what looks to be a silver circlet wrapped around his forehead.

He looks absolutely fucking ridiculous.

And goddammit Keith is still attracted to him.

“I didn’t know you guys would be here.” His eyes glance over Pidge, Hunk and Lance before quickly darting back to Keith, “Do you have a character?”

Pidge elbows him and Keith grunts, “Keith hasn’t played with us.”

“Yet.” Lance wiggles a finger.

Shiro’s laugh is booming and it attracts the attention of everyone already waiting in line. A few people cry out ‘ _Jiro! Jiro!_ ’ and Shiro sends them a charming wave and smile.

“What are your characters?” Shiro looks unbelievably excited as he turns back to their group.

Keith listens as Pidge and the gang introduce their characters and backstories to a very attentive Shiro. He eats up their words, hands poised on his hips like some kind of banana foster superhero that Keith desperately wants to bone.

“How do I play?” The words come out before can stop them.

Shiro’s eyes light up and Keith hears a strangled, _no fucking way_ come from somewhere in Lance’s direction.

He chooses to ignore it.

“We can set up a character inside.” Shiro throws an arm around Keith’s shoulder, “You look like a Paladin.”

“Everyone looks like a Paladin to you.” The voice comes from in front of them and ends on a delicate laugh.

A woman in pink and yellow armor matching Shiro’s stands before them, white hair pulled up in a high, curly ponytail. There’s a silver bow wrapped around her shoulders and she’s almost - if not exactly as tall - as Shiro himself.

“You’re Valayun.” Lance’s voice goes wistful, “I follow your twitch!”

“Please,” She sets a hand on her chest, “Call me Allura.”

“Your idea to call forth the Elder Whale in your last stream was,” Hunk makes a chef kiss with his fingers, “Inspiring.”

“Thank you.” Allura beams.

“Allura is part of our guild.” Shiro pulls away from Keith and gives an exaggerated wave in his direction, “We have a newbie in our midst.”

Keith fights the urge to shrink under his friends smirking stares.

No turning back now.

  


-

  
  


Two hours later and Keith leaves with a player card for his character, ThunderStorm Darkness, folded up in his back pocket. His friends are ahead of him, Allura mushed between them and heading in the direction of the guild group dinner.

Lance and Pidge had gone all starry-eyed when Allura invited them to tag along.

“You making googly eyes at Shiro is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” Lance had practically kissed him right there.

“Did you have fun?” Shiro’s voice is quiet as they follow in the footsteps of their friends.

Keith glances up at him, agitation melting away at the hopeful look on Shiro’s face, “More than I thought I would.”

“That’s great.” Shiro knocks their shoulders together.

Keith rides the warmth and familiarity of Shiro’s presence all the way to a local pub.

It’s not as crowded as Keith expected it to be. In fact, other than a joyful shout of ‘ _Jiro, the hero returns!_ ’ from the bartenders, it’s quiet. The main room is dimly lit, crooning jazz playing on a little speaker system nestled above a stage set for live music.

A waitress leads them to a blocked off area, where everyone squeezes into the booths and chairs. Keith ends up next to Shiro, thighs pressed tight and the scent of Shiro’s cologne near intoxicating.

More and more of the guild show up - all still in costume.

Two hours in, food and booze is getting passed around, the laughter is loud and the live music roars to life.

Keith wanders off to get a glass of water from the bar and take a break from all of the noise. When he turns back around, Shiro is there, grin a mile wide and smelling like expensive beer and old spice.

“Pidge says we go to the same college.”

Keith has to take a sip from the water to clear his suddenly dry throat, “Yep.”

“Why haven’t we met before?” Shiro tilts his head curiously.

Keith shrugs, “I’m majoring in art history and it’s on the other side of campus from the aerospace department.”

“Small world.” Shiro chuckles, “I’ll have to come by sometime and you can give me a tour.”

Keith slowly looks up from his water to meet Shiro’s gaze. There’s a challenge in those grey eyes and Keith has never been known to back down from a challenge.

“I’m free next week.” He rubs a thumb along the glass, “No class on Thursdays.”

Shiro’s chest expands, “Yea?” He takes a hesitant step into Keith’s space.

Keith lets him, lips wrapping around the edge of the glass.

Shiro’s eyes track the movement, mouth parting as his tongue darts out to lick away the phantom sensation. His prosthetic hand reaches out, still covered in the ugly armor and gloves, and hovers at Keith’s cheek.

“I really want to kiss you right now.” Shiro murmurs, fingers moving to tuck Keith’s hair behind his ear.

Keith’s heart shudders inside his chest, but he still manages a taunting, “Then why don’t you?”

Shiro lowers his voice, “Because we’re in public and I want to take my time with you.”

Keith sets his glass on the bar behind him, then closes the distance between their bodies, “Yea, I don’t think I can wait that long.”

  


 

-

  
  
  


 

There’s a little outdoor smoking area behind the pub. It’s lit up by strings of white fairy lights and boasts those large, plush wine bar couches all circled around an unlit fire pit. No one is outside and all of the chatter from their mixed group of friends dies with a solid click.

Keith slaps a palm against Shiro chest and pushes him backwards until his legs hit one of the couches. He falls down into one willingly, face open with hunger and still looking unfairly attractive in his paladin cosplay.

Keith climbs up into his lap like he’s done this a dozen times, shivering with excitement when two large hands curl around his waist, guiding his ass to rest on the armor covering Shiro’s thighs.

Shiro’s eyes are watching Keith’s mouth like they’re an all-you-can-eat buffet and he hasn’t eaten in _days_.

“Is it too forward of me to say that I’ve been thinking about kissing you since the elevator?” Shiro murmurs.

Keith slides his arms around Shiro’s neck, one hand finding purchase in a tuft of hair and pulling his head back, “Nope.”

Shiro lets out a catastrophic moan as Keith slants their mouths together. It’s a devastating slide of lips, open and wet. Shiro lets Keith lead the charge.

Each push and pull of their mouths, a tease of tongue against his own, the slick sound of saliva - it all settles warm and liquid in the pit of Keith’s belly.

His body rolls against Shiro’s, uncaring of the cloak and armor keeping him from that sweet spot between Shiro’s legs. He’s far too busy scraping his nails against Shiro’s scalp and feeling those lips tremble in reply.

They part for air - but only for a moment.

Shiro’s gaze is blurry - mouth swollen and wet with Keith’s kiss.

Keith dives right back in for seconds.

This time he coaxes Shiro’s tongue into his mouth and gives it a long, sensual suck.

Shiro makes a sound deep in his throat, something like a whine. The hands at Keith’s hips dip under his jacket and grasp tight around his waist, thumbs digging into the divots of his hip bones.

Keith’s own moan bleeds around Shiro’s tongue, thighs clenching around his waist as arousal hardens his cock. Those thumbs press down harder, sending spikes of pleasure across Keith’s skin and has him gasping out a strangled cry.

Shiro chases it with another kiss, filthy and sweet and tasting like beer and bar fries.

It’s the single hottest kiss of Keith’s entire life.

“Wanna take you to my room.” Shiro murmurs, nibbling at Keith’s bottom lip until it starts to throb.

Keith curls his entire arm around the back of Shiro’s neck and squeezes, body heating up even more at the mere thought of Shiro fucking him.

“I don’t fuck at the first con.” Keith licks Shiro’s top lip, then sinks into another slow exchange of saliva.

“I’d treat you so good, baby.” Shiro promises when they part once more

Keith has no doubt about that.

“Patience yields focus.” Keith yanks at Shiro’s hair and smirks when he lets out a long, languid moan.

Shiro’s hands glide up the length of Keith’s back, “Hey,” His voice feigns upset, “That’s my line.”

“It’s a good line.” Keith rolls his hips forward, cock dragging along Shiro’s stomach in a tease that has those long, dark lashes fluttering closed.

“Oh baby.” Shiro gasps, mouth quickly finding a sensitive spot under Keith’s jawline, “I could do this all night.”

Keith purrs and pulls at Shiro’s hair until he has those kiss-swollen lips brushing against his own, “I don’t have anywhere important to be, do you?”

Another slow, burning kiss is his response.

  
  
  
  
  


 

 

 

 

 

The end  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> In this AU college students can totally afford to spend four days at a convention.
> 
> Join me on [Twitter!](https://twitter.com/blackpalaladin)


End file.
